


Hypocrite, Save Thyself

by Barnabas



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-28
Updated: 2012-04-04
Packaged: 2017-11-02 15:43:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/370641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barnabas/pseuds/Barnabas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faith is good at giving advice, but not so great at following it herself as she begins to realize the impact some of her past mistakes will have on her future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This started out intended as a short, two-scene Faith character piece, which eventually grew into something bigger than that, and something that’s really a bit longer than the actual minimal amount of plot involved really deserves. But at that point the choices were to try to pad it out with probably-mediocre excess plot, not post it at all, or just post it as-is, however imperfect. So, posting as-is. Hope you enjoy.

In those few seconds between sleep and full wakefulness, Faith wasn’t even halfway there yet before her preternatural senses told her she wasn’t alone.  But it had been four mornings in a row of non-aloneness now, and she was almost used to it.

What was different this morning was that when she opened her eyes, her companion wasn’t still asleep, snoring softly, but was instead sat on the edge of the bed, facing away from her, long hair spilling loose down her back, the dark of it contrasting beautifully against the pale white of her skin.  Faith smiled.  She’d gotten used to this in the past, and could again.  Easily.

But the smile faded as she took in the other girl’s posture, and felt the way she was just bleeding tenseness and frustration into the air around her.  She’d turned up on Faith’s doorstep Monday night, a single bag in hand, asking, ‘Can I stay here?’, but refusing to give any clue about what was wrong.  Faith hadn’t pushed.  But maybe now was finally the time to.

“Hey,” she called groggily.  “What’s up?”

No answer.  No sign she had even heard her.

“D?”

“This was a mistake,” Dawn murmured.

“What?”

“A mistake.  I shouldn’t have come here.”  She got up and began searching for her clothes.

“D…”

Dawn ignored her.  She’d located her panties and pulled them on, and then grabbed a pair of jeans that actually belonged to Faith.  The slayer watched in amusement, wondering how long it would take her to figure it out.

“D,” she tried again.

Still no reaction.  Dawn had gotten the tight denims past her thighs, but they’d go no higher.

“Dawn!”

“These aren’t even mine!” she finally exclaimed, in a tone that made it sound like Faith had played some deliberate trick on her.  “Why are your hips so frickin’ narrow?”  Back down they went, and she spotted another pair, possibly her own this time, across the room.

Faith was out of bed like a shot, and stopped her before she could get there.  One-handed, she grabbed her arm, spun her around, and flung her back down onto the bed.  “Maybe _your_ ass is too friggin’ wide.  Now, spill it, girlfriend,” she ordered, and plopped down next to her.

“I don’t know what--”

“Please don’t treat me like a complete idiot by finishing that sentence,” she warned, and Dawn hung her head.  More gently, she continued, “So what’s going on?  What are you doing here?”

“I… ran away from home,” she admitted, still not looking up.

Faith burst out laughing, and _that_ got Dawn to look at her.  To glare at her, in fact.  “Hey!  Bitch.”  She made another half-hearted attempt to get up and collect her clothes, but Faith just yanked her back down again.

“Sorry, D, but… you’re, what, twenty now?  Pretty sure the ship sailed on the whole running-away-from-home thing at least three years ago.”

“Okay, I ran away from my responsibilities, then.”  She heaved a sigh that sounded way too weary to have come from a twenty-year-old.  “I’m just… sick of it.  Everything.  Sick of lying to my roommate and having her think I’m a freak for all the weird occult books I’ve got, and for the people constantly coming by dropping off ancient manuscripts and stone tablets and saying things like, ‘Boss needs this translated by tomorrow,’” she said, lowering her voice as far as it would go in what was probably an impersonation of some guy back in LA.  “Sick of working on them for hours and hours, then falling asleep in sociology ‘cause it was already light out by the time I finished.  And I’m sick of the expectations, how it’s just totally taken for granted now that I’m gonna be a watcher’s apprentice when I graduate, and what if I don’t want to?”

“But I thought you _did_ want to?  You’re such a book geek--in a hot way--and you’re wicked good with languages and everything…  It seemed like the perfect gig for you.”

Dawn bit her lip and nodded.  “I know.  That’s what I thought, too.  And when I was a kid, you have no idea how much I used to bug Buffy to let me help with the research and stuff.  It seemed so grown-up and important, y’know?  I just wanted to be part of the gang, not feel so left out--I didn’t even really think about how much work it actually was, or how much they all seemed to hate it… except Giles, obviously.  So now I got my wish, except the gang’s not even around anymore to make me feel included, ‘cause they’re spread out all over the world, and it turns out the only part of it I got was all the hard work.  Believe me, I’m completely aware of the irony.  I’m practically drowning in awareness.”

“Well, then… damn, what’s the problem?” Faith nearly sputtered, wondering how such a simple thing had gotten her upset enough to run clear across the country.  “If you don’t want to do it, don’t do it.”

“You think I haven’t tried to get out of it?  I’ve already told Mr. Higgins all of that stuff, and more than once.”  When she saw the blank look Faith was giving her, she explained, “The watcher working with the LA slayers.  He’s supposed to be my boss in two years.  Except I wouldn’t want to work for him even if I still _did_ want all this stuff.  He’s arrogant, opinionated, not nearly as smart as he thinks he is, and he doesn’t listen… or even care about other people, apparently.”

“Sounds like your typical watcher,” Faith muttered.

“I’ve told him over and over that I don’t have time to do half his work, too, ‘cause I’ve got way too much to do for my classes already.  But he just keeps sending couriers by with more stuff, and handwritten notes, like I’m supposed to be impressed he has his own personal stationery.  ‘Terribly sorry, Ms. Summers,’” she mimicked in a not-half-bad English-accent, “‘but it’s ever-so-important we learn what’s in this scroll, even though it’ll probably turn out to be as harmless as all the others I’ve sent over and I’m really just trying to keep you away from that party Friday night, since I never got to go to any myself when I was attending university a thousand years ago in foggy old London town, therefore you shouldn’t be allowed to enjoy your youth, either.  Pip, pip, cheerio.’”

“Ouch,” Faith said.  “Yeah--asshole.  But then you must’ve gone over his head, right?  What’d G and your sister say?”

“I haven’t told them.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I shouldn’t have to!”  Dawn stood up, and this time Faith let her.  The younger girl began to pace.  “Sometime during my final three years of college, you’d think my own sister would notice something was wrong and ask me about it.  But to do that she’d actually have to come visit me, and I’m not holding my breath for that.  I can barely even remember the last time I was even in the same room with her.”

Oh.  Right.  Dawn had so many awesome qualities that Faith had never appreciated in the old Sunnydale days, but unfortunately this was the one that she _did_ remember from back then: the brat’s amazing ability to make herself the poor, put-upon victim of any situation imaginable.  Guess it was too much to hope for that she’d grow out of it one day.

“Jesus Christ, D, you don’t think she’s a little busy with other stuff?  Like tryin’ to make sure you don’t wake up with demons in your dorm room tomorrow morning?  And hey, this is _your life_ here--you can’t wait for someone else to notice and fix its problems for you.  Fix ‘em your-fucking-self.  That’s what being a grown-up is all about.”

“I’m not asking her to fix them for me,” Dawn replied angrily.  She stopped pacing and faced the other woman.  “But the noticing part would be nice.  I’m just asking her to… care.”

“You don’t think she cares about you?”

“She probably does, but she could show it a lot better.  How hard is it to pick up a phone more than once every six weeks?”

“Why does she have to be the one to make the first move?” Faith wondered rhetorically.  “You came to see me.  You could’ve gone to see her, be telling _her_ all this stuff right now.”

“LA to New York is a way cheaper flight than LA to Rome,” Dawn pointed out with a half-grin.  “If I’m gonna max out my credit card, it should be on important stuff--like a convertible.  Or a shopping spree on Rodeo.  When I do see Buffy again, I don’t want the first thing she does to be coming after me waving bills in my face.  What, are you not glad to see me or something?”

For the first time since the conversation had turned serious, Faith allowed herself to notice and appreciate that D was still dressed in nothing but a pair of panties, and she let her appreciation of that fact show on her face.  “No, I’m glad.  Real glad.  Seriously, I get any gladder here, I’m gonna have to go find some dry sheets.”

Dawn looked down at herself, blushed, and quickly found a nearby semi-clean tanktop and pair of shorts.  “Perv,” she accused once she’d finished dressing. 

“Guilty,” Faith agreed.  “Proud of it, too.  Perving’s one way of knowing you ain’t dead yet.  Or comatose.”

Dawn took a seat on the corner of the bed, smiling politely back at her, and then grew serious again.  “But I would’ve come here even if Buffy had been in San Francisco or Chicago.  Because getting to spend the last two summers here in New York with you… well, part of me still can’t believe Buffy even let me do it.  I know I was eighteen and everything and technically she couldn’t have stopped me, but if she’d wanted to she would’ve found a way.”  Her cheeks flushed pink again as she thought of something.  “And if she knew half the things we’d done together, first she’d lock me in my room until I was fifty, and then she’d come after you with her rocket launcher.”

“Bring her on,” Faith challenged.

“But they were the funnest times of my life,” the younger girl continued.  “You and Spike are the only two people who knew me when I was a kid who don’t still treat me like I’m a kid, and especially that first year here it was so nice to go from the, ‘oh, God, oh, God, we’re all gonna die,’ of Sunnydale to just two semi-normal girls with a whole huge city to run around and play in for three months.  It was simple, y’know?  I guess I thought if I came here, and found you, maybe I could get that simpleness back.  But it turns out it’s not that easy.  In hindsight: duh.”  She stared out the bedroom window at the spectacular view of the neighboring building’s brick wall.

“D?  What’s _really_ wrong?” Faith asked softly.  Because everything she’d just said had been real believable.  Confused about the direction of her future.  Pissed off at that Higgins douche.  Angry about having her linguistic abilities taken for granted and abused.  Missing a happier time from days gone by.  But Faith knew her, and knew that all of that combined still shouldn’t have been enough to get her to throw up her hands, say ‘fuck this,’ and run.  There had to be something more.

“I’m… I mean, I think I’m… maybe…  I’m in love,” she admitted, tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and continued her study of the brick wall, unwilling to meet the slayer’s gaze.

“What?”  Oh… fuck.

Perfect.  Just perfect.  Just what she needed.  Just one more good thing in her life that was now forever fucked up.

D was the best friend Faith had ever had.  They were closing in on three years now of this, of hanging out together, having borderline-illegal (and sometimes straight-out illegal) amounts of fun, and fucking whoever they wanted, including each other whenever they felt like it, no strings attached.  Faith had always preached the “what are friends for?” philosophy, and Dawn had always seemed to feel the exact same way, proving to Faith, without a doubt, that her way was best.

But of course, Dawn had grown up around her sister and her sister’s friends, who all still believed that shit about sex messing with friendships, who thought that sex had to ‘mean’ something.  Should Faith really be surprised that Dawn had eventually come around to believe the same thing?  Should she be surprised that her luck had turned to complete crap yet again?

Now Faith had to do something she’d never done before: let someone down easy.  Could she?  Find the right words that wouldn’t make D run out crying, hating her forever?  If she--

Wait--hold up a sec.

Faith replayed the words in her head, and they hadn’t been ‘I love you.’  So… could her luck have actually held for once?  One way to find out.

“Really?  Uh, cool.  Not with… me?”

Dawn looked at her, momentarily surprised, then smirked when she recognized what must have been barely-concealed terror on the slayer’s face.  “No, you stupid egomaniac.  I mean, yeah, I love you, totally, but I’m not, like, _in love_ with you.  That would be… kinda weird at this point, wouldn’t it?  Sorta like falling in love with Xander.”  She shuddered a little at the thought.

“Yeah, but you haven’t screwed Xander,” Faith reminded her with a teasing leer, and then remembered how stupid it was to make assumptions like that.  “Wait--have you?”

“No!” she exclaimed, laughing and shuddering again at the same time.

“So, okay, then who is she?”  Fuck, she was assuming again.  Who said it had to be a she?  “Or he?” she hastened to add.  “Is she a she, or is she a he?  ‘Cause it’s just as cool if she’s a he.  You know I’m a big fan of the hes myself, as long as--”

“She’s a she,” Dawn informed her, cutting Faith off before that could turn into a full-length babble worthy of Red.  Her smile faded a little, and her gaze landed firmly in her lap as she half-mumbled, “She’s… y’know… a slayer.”

“And that’s… bad?” Faith wondered.  “You got something against slayers now?  You a slayerist or somethin’?”

“My best friend’s a slayer,” she said, gesturing in Faith’s general direction, and she couldn’t help suppress a little ripple of happiness to finally know for sure that D felt the same way about her.  “And she’s spent eight months in a coma and three years in jail.  My sister’s a slayer, and before long we’re gonna need two hands’ worth of fingers to count up all the times she’s died.  You wanna know why I don’t wanna be a watcher anymore?  ‘Cause I can’t become a teacher and friend to a bunch of girls, knowing that some of them are gonna die.  And if I can’t even do that, I definitely can’t fall in love with one.”

“But you said you’re already in love with one.”

“Stop not helping!” Dawn exclaimed, throwing her hands up in a huff.  “My point is, I don’t _want_ to be in love with one.”

“And so you ran away.”

“Yeah.”

“‘Cause she might get killed.  Maybe.  Someday, way in the future.”

“Or tomorrow.”

“Yeah--or tomorrow,” Faith agreed.  “So could you.  You could walk outside ten minutes from now and get run over by a taxi.  And if that happens, are you happy with the life you’ve had?”

Dawn wouldn’t answer.  Or even look at her.

“This slayer… is it mutual?  Is she into you, too?”

Shrug.  “I think so.  I mean, it’s not like we’ve actually _said_ anything to each other about it, but when she looks at me, it’s…”  Unable to help herself, she smiled at the memory, and Faith realized just how far gone for this chick she already was.

“Then get up, pack your shit, get your ass back to LA, and grab hold of her and don’t let go.  You can’t live life playing it safe, D.  Take a damn chance, or else who knows what you’ll miss out on?”

This time there was no humor in Dawn’s laughter.  “Right.  Like you did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  _Nobody_ could get their defensive walls up faster than Faith.

“This,” Dawn said, standing up and stretching her arms out wide to take in the entire room, and the apartment beyond it.  “This is you taking risks, not playing it safe?  This is what you always wanted out of life?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s exactly what I always dreamed of when I was a whiny little kid back in Southie, but yeah, I’m happy with it.  Why shouldn’t I be?  I got a decent place, a decent job, I can fuck a different hottie every night if I feel like it, I can go to games at Yankee Stadium and beat the ever-holy crap out of the New York assholes who talk shit about my Sox hat…  I like it just fine, thanks.”

“Okay.  Good for you.”  Dawn nodded.  “And sure, as a consolation prize, I guess it’s not bad.  Doesn’t change the fact that the one thing in your life you ever _really_ wanted you were too scared to go after.”

“I don’t know what you’re--”

“Please don’t treat me like a complete idiot by finishing that sentence,” she warned, throwing the slayer’s earlier words right back at her.  “What, you think I couldn’t tell how you felt about her?  I knew you were in love with her even before I knew girls could kiss girls… which made it kinda hard to understand at first when you’re a sheltered twelve-year-old with fake memories completely created by a bunch of monks who probably didn’t know jack about sex, but whatever.  Point is, I knew.  I _know_.  So why is it okay for you to wuss out on what you want ‘cause you’re too scared, but I do the same thing and somehow I’m letting both of us down?”

Fuck, the brat really was too damn smart for her own good sometimes.  “What do you want me to tell you?”

“That if I walk out that door and go find the woman I love, you’ll do the same.”

Did Dawn honestly think she hadn’t ever _wanted_ to do that?  Like about a million different times?  She shook her head.  “It’s too late.  Way too late.”

“It’s not.”

“We missed our moment.  If we ever had one in the first place.”

Dawn pulled a chair out, sat down, and smirked at her.  “Lame.”

“What’s lame?”

“ _You’re_ lame.  And your excuses are lame.  You never let her know how you felt, and even now you’re _still_ pissed at her for rejecting you.”

“Hey, she never rejected me--!”

“‘Cause you never gave her the chance.  Safer that way.  It felt like she did, though, didn’t it?” Dawn asked, smirk still in place.  “It still stung, right?”

“Fuck you!” Faith snapped, and now she was the one staring hard out the window.  “How did this suddenly become about me, anyway?”

“Because I’ve been waiting years for an excuse to tell you this, and your amazing hypocrisy finally gave me one.”  She pulled out her phone and pressed a button.  “You know what?  I’ll call my slayer and ask her out, right this second, if you’ll do the same with yours.  What do you say?”

“You’re crazy,” Faith sulked, crossing her arms and still refusing to look at her.

“And you’re a coward.”

“I am _not_ a coward!  And I’m not anywhere near as smart as you, but I’m still smart enough to know when something’s a lost cause.  And this one is.  I’ve got zero shot with her.”

“Why?” Dawn inquired.

“For one thing, we tried to kill each other.  Hard to build a relationship on that.”

“She and Angel tried to kill each other.  Spike, too.  Didn’t stop her from loving either of them,” she pointed out.  “Okay, keep going.  What’s the next excuse?”

Faith ground her teeth together and tried to control her anger.  Killing Dawn would be majorly frowned upon, by a whole lot of people.  And the satisfaction she’d get from it would probably only last a few seconds.  “How about what you just said?  Angel.  Spike.  Not to mention her giant wind-up toy soldier.  Notice something they all have that I don’t?  Like, say, a dick?”

“But what about--?” Dawn started to say, and her eyes flicked toward the closet.

“You know fucking well what I’m talkin’ about--don’t act dumb,” Faith warned, not in any mood for jokes at that moment.  “Even if I hadn’t screwed all that other shit up, even if I’d been the absolute picture-perfect goody-two-shoes slayer, I still never had a chance with her.  You ‘n me, we might not be gay, but we’re also never gonna be elected Straightest Girl in America, either.  She’s practically got the campaign posters printed.”

“Right, that’s why she wasn’t just boinking Satsu for the last six months.”

For the first time in… years?… Faith was stunned speechless.  Her mouth opened and closed two or three times, but no sound came out.  Dawn just sat and watched her, her smirk more annoying than ever.

Finally, Faith found her voice enough to get out a single word: “Bullshit.”

The smirk somehow grew even bigger.  “Seriously?  You mean you seriously didn’t know?  It’s only been, like, the number-one piece of slayer-gossip since March.  Someone told me they’re even talking about it on internet forums.  How could you not have heard?”

“You might not have noticed, D, but with the little extended sabbatical from Slayer HQ I’ve got goin’ on here, I don’t get much gossip, and my subscription to the newsletter ran out.  And I wouldn’t know what the hell an ‘internet forum’ was if you hit me in the face with a laptop.”

No way.  It just wasn’t possible.  Little Miss Narrow-and-Straight had been banging Tokyo Rose?  For real?  Or was it just some fake-out, some front they had to put up to infiltrate some demon dyke bar or something…?

Of course, that wouldn’t make much sense, ‘cause even if the demons bought the two of them as a couple, they’d still know they were slayers, and would have to be pretty stupid to let ‘em in…

Maybe she was trying to win a bet.  Or a contest--she wanted to be ready when the ‘Show Us Your Lesbian Vampire-Slayer Girlfriend and Win a Million Dollars’ people knocked on the door.  Or maybe she was pitching a reality show about her life and was trying to spice it up a little, throw in a bit of girl-on-girl to give it some edge.  Or--

“So did you have a third excuse?” Dawn wondered, interrupting her increasingly-crazy thoughts and snapping her back to the present.  “Or was that pretty much it?”

Faith suddenly felt tired.  Really tired.  And impossibly old.  “What do you want from me?” she asked with a heavy sigh.  She knew what she wanted from Dawn right now: for her to go far away, so Faith could go back to sleep.  She was looking forward to waking up and discovering that the last four days had all been a dream, one she could hopefully forget before she’d finished breakfast.

“For you to step up and take a chance on the thing you want the most.  Fix your own life.  Remember, like you just told me to do?”  She waited for Faith to respond, but when there was none, shook her head and continued, “I could’ve fallen in love with you so easy, so many times.  Know why I never did?”

“‘Cause I don’t do Valentine’s Day, I suck at remembering birthdays, and potential in-laws would get one look at me and kill themselves out of horror?”

“Because even though I think you could’ve loved me, too, and we could’ve maybe had something really great, I would’ve always known that I could never be anything but second-best to you.”

Faith didn’t bother to deny it.  Why should she?  It was true, after all, and they both knew it.  “So if you wouldn’t let yourself fall for me, how’d it happen with your LA girl?” she wanted to know, though she only half-paid attention to the answer.  Her head was suddenly full of other stuff.  “You said you didn’t want it to happen with her, either.”

“I didn’t.”  Her chuckle was rueful.  “You, I had plenty of time to prepare for.  Build up my defenses.  She caught me by surprise.”

“What’s she like?”

Dawn considered it for a moment before answering.  “A lot like you.  And a lot not.  She’s… sorta perfect, I think.”

“Then don’t let her get away,” Faith warned.

“I won’t if you won’t.”

 “It’s too late,” Faith said again through lips that felt thick and numb.  She sounded half-shellshocked, like she was talking to herself.  Like maybe she was repeating a mantra that played constantly in her head, just below the level of consciousness.  A steady drumbeat that kept her from doing something stupid and risking getting hurt.  _…too-late too-late too-late too-late too-late…_

“Whatever,” Dawn said with a shrug.  “She’s hopelessly clueless, and you’re hopelessly stubborn.  And I’m wondering why you guys never got together?”  She shook her head, bent down, and retrieved her bag from the corner.

Faith seemed to have drifted away in a sea of her own thoughts, and didn’t even notice that Dawn was packing her things.  When she was ready to go, she finally had to touch the other woman lightly on the shoulder, just to remind her that she was even there.  When the slayer’s eyes turned and focused on her, she told her, “I’m gonna catch a cab to the airport.  And I should probably call Buffy, let her know I’m okay.”

Faith recovered enough to smile and say, “Yeah, she’s probably worried about you.  Have a good flight.  And bring that girl back out here sometime so I can meet her.  I wanna make sure she’s good enough for you.  Anyone that’s too much like me is someone I start to worry about.”

“I never said I was gonna go out with her,” Dawn pointed out.

“Call it a hunch that you will.  Eventually.”

“Well… maybe,” she allowed, with the tiny hint of a mischievous gleam in her eye.  “And what about you?”

“Bye, D.”

She looked like maybe she wanted to argue it a little more… but finally decided not to press it.  “Goodbye,” she said, and leaned down for a kiss.  A long, slow, wicked hot, and way-more-than-best-friends kiss that had parts of Faith’s body warming up fast and getting ready for more, even though her brain told them not to get their hopes up.  “Thanks for everything.”

“Yeah.  No problem.  That’s… what I’m here for.  And by the way, I didn’t mean that before about your ass.  I actually love your ass,” she told her, reaching around to give it a quick, playful smack, and Dawn laughed and kissed her again, quick and dry this time.

She made it to the bedroom doorway, paused, and turned back.  “Why does she have to be the one to make the first move?” she wondered, again echoing some of the slayer’s earlier words… and then disappeared.  Faith heard the front door open and close, and just like that she was all alone again.

She flopped back onto the bed and lay staring up at the waterstained ceiling.

What.  The.  Fuck?


	2. Two

_seven weeks later_

Faith added a third finger, sliding it in easily, the arm that was thrusting her hand back and forth keeping perfect rhythm with her tongue flicking at B’s clit.  It was a pace only possible with slayer muscles, and she could hear, feel, and sense that it wouldn’t be much longer now.  Finally, she wrapped her lips around that perfect little nub again and sucked hard, and Buffy came--long, loudly, and messily.  Faith slowed her efforts but didn’t stop, instead working her slowly back down from the peak, wanting to give her an extra-special effort tonight.  B was worth it.  B was always worth it.

At last, she looked up and saw the other slayer beaming back down at her, her expression sated and full of love and adoration.  “Shit, that was fuckin’ insane, yo,” she said in a voice that was still a little breathless.

Huh?  That was so _not_ something B would say…

She blinked, looked again… and she was right.  The girl had green eyes, and a quirky nose, and a blonde dye job, but the resemblance ended there.  Through the haze of alcohol and wishful thinking, the memories of the last few hours returned: meeting her at the club, dancing with her, agreeing to take her home.  She remembered wondering at the time who the hell had carded her, since she clearly wasn’t old enough to drink.  Might be old enough to vote.  Probably was old enough to drive. 

And there was no love or adoration anywhere in sight on that face.

Faith suddenly felt sick.

_Not again_ , she thought.  _Christ, not again._

“Get out.”

“What?” the girl asked, blissed-out smile faltering.

“Get dressed and get the fuck out.  Now.”

When she just lay there staring at Faith for another few seconds, as if the slayer was speaking Swahili, she jumped up, grabbed her by the arm, and pulled her to her feet.  Not roughly or painfully, but no way was she going to wait however long it took for the girl to finally get moving on her own.  Because Faith was pretty sure she was going to throw up, and she’d rather be alone when that happened.

“You’re fucking crazy, bitch!” the blonde spat as she scooped up her clothes and began hurriedly slipping back into them.  “You stupid fucking piece of shit ho!  Think you’re so great?  You’re nothing, you know that?”

Yeah.  Faith knew.  She also remembered that she’d already placed the accent and figured out her whole story.  Upper East Side rich kid, slumming for the night with the hottest piece of white trash she could find.  One of her friends had no doubt gotten a picture of them on the dance floor, the girl’s tongue down halfway Faith’s throat, and it would show up on her Facebook page in the next day or two and become a really fun way of having gotten her parents’ attention and making her boyfriend jealous.  And it would work so well that next month it’d happen all over again, with a different girl or some huge guy with a shaved head and tats on his neck.

Faith had tried the same thing, once upon a time (minus the Facebook part).  Nobody had cared.  Her mom hadn’t cared even when she’d walked in on her flat-out fucking people right there in the apartment.

Well, no, that wasn’t completely true--she’d cared that time she’d caught Faith eating that girl out on _her_ bed.  And she’d cared that time she’d discovered later on that Faith and that guy had drunk all her cheap-ass Scotch.  She’d been pissed about _those_ things, and Faith had carried the evidence of that around on her face for a week afterward, something the teachers at school hadn’t cared enough to ask about.  People not caring--story of Faith’s life.

The girl finished dressing and stormed out, slamming first the bedroom door behind her, then the apartment’s front door.  Somewhere a picture frame fell off a wall and banged on the floor.

The urge to vomit passed, but Faith lay on the bed for a long time afterward, feet dangling on the ground and palms pressed flat against her eyelids. 

“What the hell am I doing…?”

\---

_The old woman finished fixing her tea--it took her slow, fumbling hands twice as long now as it had just a few years before--and peeked out the window of her small ground-level apartment, looking at the dirty streets of Waltham visible beyond.  Looked like it might snow, she thought.  That would make it hard for her to get to the supermarket on Friday.  Tiffany in 1B didn’t have any problems like that: her grandson ran all those sorts of errands for her.  Must be nice to have family._

_She sighed and slowly made her way from the kitchenette to the sofa in the living room.  T, her beagle, was curled up on it, asleep, and she woke him and shooed him off.  “You’re family, right, T?” she asked him in a voice that raspy from not having been used in… two days?  T didn’t mind if she didn’t talk, and she’d stopped talking to herself more than five years ago, after a couple of the other residents of the building had noticed and given her slightly-funny looks, like maybe they were wondering how far the senility had already progressed.  Well, she might be old and frail, but she was still in her right mind… for now… and wouldn’t have anyone thinking otherwise just yet._

_“Oh… fuck,” she croaked as she noticed that she’d left the remote control on the TV stand again.  Now she’d have to get back up and get it… but was it really worth the effort?  There was never anything good on anymore, and she still hadn’t replaced her broken 3D VirtualTheatr._

_Maybe she’d just take a nap, instead.  Yeah, that sounded like a better idea…_

_T whined up at her, asking to be let out, but it was too late--she was already asleep.  Still whining, he padded over to the sliding patio door… and saw a woman standing outside of it, staring into the apartment in utter horror.  T yipped happily, because he recognized her.  Of course he recognized her.  She looked so different, but dogs didn’t notice unimportant things like physical appearance.  Her_ scent _was the same, and that was all that mattered.  He jumped up and put his front paws on the glass.  Now that she was awake again, she could let him out._

_But she didn’t.  She backed away one step, two, three._

Oh, my God, that’s _me, she somehow realized, looking in at the sleeping old woman._

_Thirty years away, maybe, which was an eternity… but she also remembered thirty years into the past, when she’d been young and immortal, fresh power surging through her veins and finally giving her the chance to take on the world that had kicked her around all her life, and let her kick it back for a change.  That seemed like just yesterday.  So much had happened to her--and the world--since then, but it still felt like yesterday._

_With one last look into the apartment, she turned and ran.  Down the deserted streets, across vacant parking lots, through empty fields.  She ran and ran, trying to ignore the way her legs began to ache, trying again to convince herself that her powers really_ hadn’t _been fading for the last six years, that she was as good now as she’d ever been._

_She didn’t even notice when the gray December Massachusetts sky began to turn gradually orange, or when the pavement and dirt gave way to hard black rock._

_It was only when the orange sky turned to red, and the thinning trees finally gave way to nothing at all, that she stopped and noticed where she was._

_“Slayer,” a voice behind her growled, and she whirled to face it.  Demon, twice her size and with a body that looked like it was made of the same stony material as the ground beneath their feet.  “You cannot stop me, Slayer,” it told her.  “I am destined to rule your pathetic world, and many more beyond it.  Even ten of you could not stop me now.”_

_“Maybe not,” she agreed.  “But I’ll give it a fuckin’ whirl.”  And she launched herself at it._

_Her first punch to the thing’s unyielding stomach shattered half the bones in her hand, but she didn’t cry out.  Didn’t stop.  Didn’t give herself time to think,_ That didn’t happen when I took on Beastie Boy way back when.

_She backed off a step, cradling her wounded hand to her chest, and delivered a kick to its kneecap.  Her heavy boot protected her from injury this time, but the creature didn’t slow.  It lunged for her, and then lunged again when she avoided its first rush._

_And right then she knew: it was right.  She couldn’t beat it._

_It kept coming, and she kept dodging, using her uninjured hand only to block its punches, and landing kicks to its knees and crotch whenever she got an opening.  But she was getting tired.  Her ruined hand was now screaming at her, and even through the thick boots her feet were feeling the effects, slowing her even further._

_“Yield, Slayer, and I will spare your life,” it promised, grinning cruelly at her.  “Even as old and weak as you are now, you will make an impressive pet leashed at the foot of my throne.”_

_“Get a cat.  Way cheaper to feed,” she told it.  The image of it came to her mind, and she inwardly shuddered.  Never.  She’d die a hundred times before submitting to something like that._

_And then she thought of the miserable, lonely existence she’d just fled from, and wondered if that was really that preferable._

_But there was a third option.  She looked behind the demon and saw where their fighting and dancing around had carried them, and knew what she had to do.  With a final thought of,_ Oh, well, I wasn’t supposed to live this long, anyway _, she rushed the creature, wrapped her arms around its waist, and drove it backwards.  After a few steps, the ground was gone, and the two of them went plummeting off the cliff’s edge.  Down and down and down they went, until at last she saw the jagged rocks rushing up out of the mist to meet them.  This was going to hu--_

\---

Faith’s whole body jerked in anticipation of an impact that never came.  Her eyes snapped open and she was back safe in her own bed.

Just a dream.  Nightmare.  But for her they’d been the same thing for so long that she didn’t even differentiate between the two anymore.

Still, that had been a bad one.

“Fuck,” she muttered, putting a hand to her forehead and feeling it wet with sweat.

A few moments passed, and she slowly became aware of a strange smell.  It was… dammit, it was the rich-girl perfume of that blonde bitch.  It was still on the pillow.  Faith grabbed the thing and threw it across the room.

Better.

No, wait--it wasn’t.  She could still fucking smell it.  On the sheets.  With an angry yell, she jumped up, ripped the bedclothes off in two big handfuls, dropped them on the floor, and then collapsed back onto the bare mattress.  She curled up in a ball, trying to get a couple more hours of sleep, knowing it was hopeless.

She couldn’t keep doing this.  Trolling clubs for teenaged lookalikes, pretending it was still 1998, and trying to convince herself for two hours that she really had gotten the girl of her dreams.  Because of course it didn’t last, and the next day she felt worse than ever, and then spent the following week trying to convince herself that that hadn’t really happened, and she’d just imagined the whole thing.  It was fake, it was sick, and it was time she fucking grew up.

Ever since the day she’d ridden that bus out of Sunnydale for the last time, leaving that crater behind, she’d lived her life like she might be dead in a week--even more so than what she’d been like just a few years before.  She’d lost nearly four years of her life in that hospital bed and prison cell, so she had a lot of time to make up for.  That’s why she’d bailed on Giles when he’d asked her to help do the whole slayer-Yoda thing.  That’s why she’d settled in New York, even though she was a Boston girl through and through and fucking _hated_ New Yorkers… but New York ran around the clock, twenty-four-seven-three-sixty-five, and in Boston the whole town pretty much closed up by eleven o’clock.

This was happening more and more, though: lying awake in the wee hours of the morning, realizing that she wasn’t going to be twenty-two forever.  The day was coming, sooner rather than later now, where she’d have to give up this life of going out five nights a week, drinking herself half to oblivion, and bringing some stranger home.  It wasn’t a happy thought--this was one of the only lives she knew (along with prison, but she wasn’t going back to _that_ one.)

The other thought that was keeping her awake lately in moments like these was that she was only a few years younger now than her mom had been when she died.  And that was _really_ scary, especially when she thought of how she’d been at the end--dark circles under her eyes that never completely went away, sallow skin loose on her face, gray creeping into her hair that she was always forgetting to re-color, and shuffling around the apartment like a tranqued-out zombie.  Most of that had been the drugs, of course, but still, when Faith tried to come up with all the ways the two of them were different, it was a depressingly short list:  Faith was a slayer; her mom hadn’t been.  Her mom had been hooked to hell and back on the needle; Faith was a believer that if you couldn’t drink it, eat it, or fuck it, it didn’t belong in your body (she’d even given up smoking).  And her mom had had a kid, obviously; Faith, somewhat amazingly, didn’t.

Which was probably a good thing--she wouldn’t have been that much better of a mom than her own had been, and she wouldn’t do that to a kid.  Not even to finally have family of her own.  At times that idea almost sounded… not so bad, to have at least one person in her life who’d (probably) always be there, even years from now when--

Oh, shit.

The dream’s details exploded fresh in her mind.  That sad, lonely old woman, and the past-her-prime slayer who’d rather go out in a blaze of glory than turn into that.

Anybody else could say ‘just a dream’ and forget it in an hour… but slayers were different.  Theirs had a nasty habit of turning out to be prophetic…

The feeling hit so fast she never had a hope of making it to the bathroom in time.  She managed to scramble off the bed and take three steps, and then her mouth opened and her previous night’s dinner spewed all over the bedroom floor.


	3. Three

_two weeks later_

“And I’m happy for you, Dawn, really,” Buffy said, switching her phone from one hand to the other so she could grab one of her suitcases from the closet.  The packing process had officially begun, and would last for six days now, almost right up until it was time to leave for the airport.  “But can’t she take you home to visit her parents the next weekend, instead?  …  I know, and I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you--I swear I was sure I had.  But whatever your other plans are, this is more important.  This is Nana’s and Poppa’s anniversary party.  If only one of their two granddaughters shows up, how do you think they’re going to feel?  …  Of course people celebrate forty-eight years.  …  They do so!  We’re having this party, therefore: existiness.  …  No.  …  No!  …  Do you actually care one way or the other, Dawn, or do you just want to argue with me?  …  Then fine, bring her--there’s no rule that says you can’t bring a date.  You know they’d both love to meet her.  So would Dad.  And all our aunts and uncles and cousins, and great-aunts and great-uncles and second-cousins…”

Buffy grinned evilly as she listened to Dawn suddenly try to find a way of extricating herself from that suggestion.  She might not mind introducing her new girlfriend to her family, but Buffy couldn’t blame her for not wanting to introduce her to all of them _at the same time_ , then be trapped in a hall with them for the next three hours, answering a hundred questions about whether she was a lesbian now or not, and be assured again and again that _of course_ there was a nice young man out there for her somewhere, and she was too young to give up on him yet.  For Buffy, avoiding a scene just like that was about the only _good_ thing she could come up with about her breakup with Satsu.

After listening to Dawn sputter and stammer for nearly half-a-minute, Buffy finally took pity on her.  “Dawn?  I get it, okay?  So go to the party with me, and then you two will have all summer to--”

The doorbell rang.

“Hold on a sec,” she said into the phone, and took a beat to compose herself and hide her annoyance before answering it.  That would be Andrew or one of the junior slayers dropping by with some ‘emergency,’ convinced the end of the world was upon them.  Usually it was something Buffy could solve for them without ever leaving home.  But she couldn’t let them see how irritated it was beginning to make her, otherwise they might get scared of her and stop, and fail to bring her the one that actually _was_ potentially bad.

She turned the knob, swung the door open, and… “Faith?”

“Hey, B,” the other slayer said, giving her a cautious smile.  She looked… as nervous as Buffy had ever seen her.  For just a second Buffy was seventeen again, opening the door on Christmas Eve and finding Faith standing on her porch.  The expression on her face was identical.

“What are you doing here?” Buffy asked before she could help herself.  That was Anya-esque in its bluntness, but she was too stunned to remember about that whole tact thing.  Faith had distanced herself from the rest of the slayer organization even before there really _was_ a slayer organization, and even though Dawn had become close friends with her over the last three years, Buffy herself had more than half-expected that she might never see her again.

“I…  I just…”  Faith shifted from one foot to the other, and her timid smile faded to nothing.  “I thought… I mean, I wanted…  No, you know what?  Fuck this,” she said, and just like that she was gone.  Didn’t even bother with the elevator--Buffy heard angry footsteps pounding down the stairwell, getting fainter by the second, and they’d faded completely by the time she finally recovered enough to close the door and remember that she’d been talking to her sister.

“Okay--that was weird,” she said, unmuting the phone.

“What was?”

“Faith.  Just showed up at my door, made with the hemming and hawing, and then got angry and ran away.”

“Faith?” Dawn echoed, and Buffy could practically _hear_ her sit up straighter, suddenly way more interested in what Buffy had to say than she’d been at any other point in this conversation.  “Faith was there?  In Rome?  And what do you mean, ‘she ran away’?  What’d you say to her?!”

“Hey!”  Buffy heard the accusation in that, and she wasn’t about to take it from someone six-thousand miles away who had no idea what had happened.  “I didn’t say anything.  She didn’t give me a chance to.”

“Well, what did _she_ say?”

“I told you: nothing.  Just a lot of ‘I, uh, er…’, and then she said ‘fuck this,’ and left.”

Her sister fell silent, but there was something in that silence, and in her weirdly-intense curiosity a moment ago that had Buffy instantly suspicious.  “Dawn?  What do you know?”

“Me?” she nearly squeaked.  “Nothing.”

“Dawn!”  Buffy tried to inject as much Mom-ness into her voice as she could.

“I really shouldn’t…  I want to, I swear I do… but it’s just not mine to tell.”

“Dawn, please,” she implored her.  Now she was worried.  What if Faith was in trouble, or sick with some horrible disease, or planning some crazy kamikaze mission that she was too proud to ask for help with?

Dawn sighed.  “Okay, fine.  I guess I might as well, since she’s obviously too chicken to say anything, and you’re too dense to ever figure it out on your own.  But if she gets pissed and comes after me, you’d better get in her way.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Buffy, Faith is completely in love with you.”

“Huh?”

Dawn kept talking, and Buffy kept the phone to her ear, but she didn’t really hear very much after, “…ever since high school.”  Her brain was suddenly very large with the thinking, and the thinking was taking up way too much space to have room for the listening, too.  Or even with the politeness, because after a little while she interrupted her sister to say, “I have to make a call,” and hung up on her without waiting for a reply.  She pressed another couple of buttons, and then, “Giles, I need you to do something for me.”

\---

Faith wasn’t paying close enough attention to where she was going when she left the airport coffee shop, and nearly ran face-first into the last person in the world she wanted to see, only barely avoiding spilling hot coffee all over them both.

 “Fuck,” she muttered, stepped around the blonde, and kept going, hoping she’d take the hint and fuck off.

But of course, she didn’t.  Girl had never taken a hint in her life.  “So that’s it?  You flew all the way to Italy, and now you’re just running away again?” Buffy demanded, keeping pace with her.  “That really is your answer to everything, isn’t it?”

“No, just my answer to you,” Faith replied without looking back.

“Dawn told me.  How you feel about me.”

“Fuck,” she muttered again.  “Nice of her to mind her own damn business.”  Now she did stop, and whirled around to face the other slayer so abruptly that there was a second near-collision.  “So… what?  You’re here to make fun of me?  Get a good laugh?”

“You really think I’d do that?” Buffy asked, not bothering to hide that that hurt.

“Why not?  Positions reversed, I’d do it to you.”

“I don’t believe that.”

A cynical snicker.  “Then you obviously don’t know me very well.”

“You’re right,” Buffy nodded.  “I don’t.  And you clearly don’t know me very well, either.  And it’s been almost ten years--isn’t it about time we changed that?”

“Okay, sure,” Faith said with a shrug, and they were already standing so close together that Buffy had no time to react before Faith was suddenly kissing her.  And her slayer reactions were definitely on the fritz today, because before she could even begin to think about pushing her away or kissing her back, it was over.

“That’s the kind of ‘getting to know you’ I had in mind, B,” Faith said with a challenging--almost cruel--smirk.  “So unless you were thinking the same thing, there’s the exit.  And I’ve got a flight to catch.”  She turned and began walking again.

Buffy stayed right on her heels.  “What if I told you maybe I _was_ thinking that?”

“Then I’d say you’re full of shit.”

“Oh, please.”  Buffy grabbed her arm and pulled her to a halt, then quickly stepped around in front of her.  “You think I’d go to all this trouble--get Giles to have the Nerd Department trace your credit card and find out what flight you were on, and come all the way down here--just to laugh at you?  Are you that stupid, or is your ego really so big that you think you’d be worth that much trouble just to make a joke out of?  If I’d wanted to laugh at you, I’d’ve just done it over the phone and saved myself a lot of time.”

“Fuck you!”

“No, Faith, fuck you!  You can’t even cut this defensive crap out for five seconds, can you?  You’re too afraid of getting hurt or being embarrassed.  Well, good for you--you’ll be safely unhurt and with your pride intact for the rest of your life.  And all alone.”  Faith recoiled like she’d been slapped, but Buffy tried her best to ignore it and pressed on.  “So good luck with that.”  This time she was the one who walked away.

Each step further from the other woman sank the knife a little deeper into her heart, but she couldn’t turn back.  The next move had to be Faith’s.  Either she’d make it… or she wouldn’t.

“B,” the voice called from nearly fifteen feet behind her.  That was good, but not good enough.  Buffy pretended not to hear her over the sounds of the busy concourse, and kept walking.

A few seconds later a soft hand landed on her arm, and the plaintive-sounding “Buffy,” came from nearly right over her shoulder.

“What?” she asked, slowly--almost reluctantly--facing her again.

“I flew all the way over here, right?  I wasn’t being ‘defensive’ or whatever you wanna call it when I got on that plane.”

“Yeah, and look where you are, Faith!” Buffy nearly shouted, causing a few nearby heads to momentarily turn their way.  “Another airport.  You couldn’t even say one complete sentence to me before giving up and bailing.”

“Hey, I was scared, okay?” the other slayer yelled right back… and then got this strange sort of surprised look on her face.  It made Buffy wonder how long it had been since Faith had admitted to being scared of _anything_.

“Yeah, well, join the club, ‘cause I’m sorta terrified here.  This is so not what I thought I’d be doing this afternoon.”  But she wasn’t hyperventilating, and neither of them had punched the other one yet, so all things considered, Buffy thought this was going way better than she ever would have expected.  “Look, can we just sit down and have a ten-minute discussion like two normal people with superpowers and quick tempers and who may-or-may-not-but-probably-do have the hots for each other?”

There were a few banks of seats nearby, and they made their way over to one of them and sat down in an empty row, side-by-side.

“I don’t suppose you have another one of those?” Buffy asked, gesturing toward the other woman’s coffee.

“Where would I be hiding it, B?” Faith wondered.  “Down my pants?”

“Right.  Stupid question.”  But the fact that Faith was smirking and teasing, and not in a mean way, had to be a good sign.

The brunette sighed and held it out toward her.  “Here.  Take it.  Except for breakfast, I’ve never been a big coffee drinker, anyway.  Rather have something with alcohol in it.”

“Then let’s go get some.  The bar’s right over--”

“No!  I mean, no, thanks.  I don’t drink before I fly.”

Buffy couldn’t help a smirk of her own.  “Uh, Faith, if you’re worried that something’s going to happen to the pilot and they’ll ask you to take over, I can almost guarantee that won’t happen.”

“Prob’ly not.  But when the plane goes down, I’m gonna be clearheaded.  Who knows how fast I might have to swim out of there before it sinks?”

“You’re afraid to fly?”

“‘Course not,” Faith scoffed.  “I’m afraid to crash.”

“Oh.  That’s too bad.  Because if you were afraid to fly, it’d give us another thing in common.  And it would make you coming all the way here to see me, even in spite of that… well, kind of amazing.”

“Yeah.  Too bad,” Faith agreed, but shot her a small smile that said something else entirely, and made Buffy’s stomach do that funny flip-flop thing that hadn’t happened to her around anyone else in… a long time.  “So you said somethin’ about having the hots for me?  And that’s been goin’ on for, what, about ninety minutes, since you talked to your sister?”

“Are you kidding?!  God, no.  It’s been…”  She frowned as she thought back, trying to pin it down.  It seemed like an eternity ago.  “I’m not really sure, exactly.  Definitely not ‘at first sight,’ but maybe a few weeks later?  I had a couple of dreams about you that were… unexpected, and the makings of much confusion… and then I started noticing you more and more when we trained and patrolled, and--”

“Well, why the hell didn’t you say anything?!” Faith demanded.  She was staring at Buffy like she’d just found out Santa Claus was real and she was the one person in the world he’d been shafting for the last twenty-seven years.

“‘Cause I was freaked out!  It’s not the easiest thing to deal with to start to realize that you’re maybe not exactly the person you thought you were for the first few years of puberty.  And then by the time I started to feel… sort of okay about it, I was convinced you wouldn’t be interested.”

“What?  Why?”

“Because you were all about the guys!  All those ones back in Boston, and then Scott, and Xander, and… Angel…  I figured if you knew how I felt, you’d laugh at me.”  Even now, it was _still_ embarrassing to admit, still tinged with the fear of mockery and rejection.  Her eyes darted away, and she added, “That you’d think I was a freak.”

And unbelievably, Faith _did_ laugh.

“Hey!”  It took all Buffy’s self-control not to get up and storm away.

“Sorry, B, but your sister’s right: you gotta be the most unobservant chick on the planet.  You didn’t notice me practically _throwing_ myself at you?”

Buffy frowned.  “When?”  No, that was crazy talk.  She was sure she’d have spotted something like that.

“How about the night I basically humped you on the dance floor at the Bronze?  Or all the times I found excuses to grope you during training?  Or the time I asked you to go to that dance, that… what was it…?  Homecoming, or whatever.”

“But… I thought you just wanted to hang out together.  Use some studs.”

“How have you ever had a date in your entire life?”

“Hey, don’t put this all on me!  If you’d wanted me to know what you were thinking, you could’ve tried… oh, I don’t know… telling me what you were thinking, maybe?”

“Groping and public humping qualify as telling where I come from.”

Buffy felt something strange, and glanced down and noticed that the fingertips of the hand not holding the coffee cup were brushing against Faith’s.  When had that happened?  Which one of them had done it?  Had Faith noticed?  She was still talking, still looking Buffy in the eye, at least doing a good job of _pretending_ she hadn’t noticed.

“And don’t act like I was the only one with the boy-toys,” she went on.  “When I met you you were busy swooning over Scottie, and oh, yeah, that epic forever star-crossed love with your ex-current-ex-current gorgeous vamp hottie of a soulmate.  As if some chick like me was gonna have a chance in hell with you?”

“So… we’re both idiots, huh?”

“Looks like,” Faith agreed.

And then they smiled at each other, and Buffy knew something fundamental had just changed between them.  As though after years of butting heads, suddenly they were going in the same direction, and it would only take one gentle nudge to shift their parallel courses to intersecting ones.  And that was… kind of scary.

Buffy had never seriously thought about having a relationship with Faith.  Daydreamed, yes, and some night dreams, too, but even that had been several years and a couple of deaths ago.  Then Faith shows up again out of nowhere, and Buffy had been so floored by what Dawn told her that she’d simply _acted_.  She couldn’t let Faith just leave town after finding out something like that without at least talking to her about it.  But now they were talking about it, and hey, look, their fingers were still touching, and it all suddenly seemed… very real.  Was this something she actually wanted?  So much of the bad had happened between them… it was hard to simply forget all that.

But God, the brief moments of good had been _so_ good…

Faith was still looking at her, a mix of hope, shyness, and fear in her eyes, as well as expectation.  Expectation?  Oh, right--it was Buffy’s turn to talk.  Her move, now.

Except she had no idea what that move was.  To stall and give herself another minute to think, she asked, “So, uh, why now?  What happened to make you--?”

“Your sister fell in love,” Faith said with a shrug.

“Um… okay, that’s… somehow not related to this at all.”

“No, it actually is.”

“Splainy?”

“She came to see me a couple months ago, totally freaking out about this chick she was jonesing for, with all these reasons why it was a terrible idea.  We talked about it, and she decided to take a chance and go for it.  And now look at ‘em.  I mean, you’ve known her way longer than me--have you ever seen her this happy?”

“Actually, no.”  Then Faith must be getting the thrice-a-week photo spam of Dawn and the love of her life, too.  It was true--Dawn had never seemed so happy, and strangely Buffy and Dawn had never seemed so close, either, even when they’d been living under the same roof.  After Dawn had turned eighteen and moved out, Buffy had tried not to call her too much, not wanting Dawn to feel like she was hovering.  But a couple of months ago, out of the blue, Dawn had started calling _her_ , just to talk about anything, or often nothing at all.  It was a little weird, in an I-think-my-sister-might’ve-been-replaced-by-a-much-friendlier-and-way-less-moody-pod-person sort of way, but still, it was nice.

“Yeah, well, she said some things about me,” Faith went on.  “Things I didn’t really like.  But finally it hit me that I was her once, and what she has now, that’s what I missed out on, ‘cause I was too much of a pussy to take the risk.  I figured it was probably too late for me to fix my own mistake, but in case it wasn’t…”

Buffy was just thinking about how well that could apply to her, too, when Faith continued, “And then I had this dream… or at least, I fuckin’ _hope_ it was just a dream…”  And she went on to describe the entire nightmare in detail.

“Oh,” Buffy said when she was done.  She didn’t even notice pulling her hand away from Faith’s.  “So… that’s the reason you’re here?  ‘Cause you’re afraid of being alone for the rest of your life?”

“No, that’s not the only--”  She fell silent as she saw something in Buffy’s face, and all the hope that had been gradually filling her own was suddenly gone.  “Shit, I knew it.”  She jumped up and started walking away, fast.

“Faith!  Wait!” Buffy called after her, and had to dodge around a middle-aged couple loaded down with luggage and a pair of security people before she caught up to her again.  “You can’t just--”

“Yeah, I can, B,” the other slayer said, spinning back to face her and nearly colliding with her for a third time.  “I just proved I can’t do this.  We aren’t even together--we’ve only been talking about it for, like, five minutes, and I’ve already pissed you off or hurt your feelings or whatever.  I never learned how to be somebody’s girlfriend.  The last time I ‘dated’ someone I was thirteen, and that lasted about three weeks before I fucked it up, and you deserve someone way better than me, anyway, so just… go home.”

She tried to turn and leave, but Buffy grabbed her arm, stopped her… and then they were kissing.

It was… well, if there was one single word that could hope to describe it, Buffy hadn’t learned that word yet.  Trying to string several together didn’t work that much better, either.  She later settled on ‘one of the most intense experiences of my life,’ because she had to say _something_ when people asked, but even that was selling it way short.  Her lips touched Faith’s… and then nothing else existed.  It was absolutely the most perfect thing she’d ever felt.  It was… something really adjective-y.

She had a sudden mental image of two infinitely-complex designs moving slowly toward one another, gently touching… and revealing that they were in fact perfect mirror images that matched each other perfectly, forming a complete whole.

As the kiss went on, she kept expecting Faith’s tongue to come blasting through her closed lips, wanting to plunder, conquer, and dominate… but it never happened.  It remained chaste and tender ‘til the end, and _that_ was when Buffy finally understood just how much this--she--meant to the other woman.  And she knew that somewhere, deep-down, she’d always felt the same, and now it was just beginning to bubble to the surface.

 _Again.  I knew this before,_ she realized.  _I_ felt _this before.  I just made myself forget, because it was too painful to look at the evil thing she’d become and remember that I’d once…  But she’s not that person anymore.  She’s come back from that, she’s come back to_ me _, and she’s so beautiful, and now I can let myself…_

When it finally ended, Buffy took a half-step back and was surprised to find her hands had been sneakily making their way--all on their own!--toward Faith’s butt.  She blushed a little and pulled them back to a more publicly-appropriate spot on her hips.  “This may have escaped your keen powers of observation,” she said once she’d found her voice again, “but I don’t have the most wonderful track record of girlfriendliness myself.  Maybe… Maybe if we do this, we could help each other figure out how to get it right.”

Faith looked doubtful.  “I’m gonna screw it up.”

Buffy shrugged.  “Me, too.  So let’s promise each other not to panic and run when that happens.  We’ll talk about it… and maybe beat each other up some… and then try to do better.  Okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed with a sliver of a smile.

“And we’ll just… take it slow.  See what happens.”

“Slow.  Right.”  Her eyes were already on Buffy’s mouth, and somehow this kiss was even better than the last.  This time Faith’s tongue teased Buffy’s lips, and she parted them and eagerly welcomed her in.  A hand wound into her hair, tipping her head back, and Buffy didn’t even try to hold back a moan as leaned into the slightly-taller woman, their bodies pressing together, soft breasts against hers, the hand on her side burning her skin in the most wonderful way possible.  Her mind became a hopeless jumble of short, unconnected words:  _yes… soft… mine… good… finally… lips… forever… warm… right._

_Faith…_

_Love._

“That was slow,” Faith breathed when it at last--very reluctantly--ended.

“Uh-huh,” Buffy murmured, as if she had any idea what the other woman had just said.  She was still sort of stuck on thoughts of ‘girl: nice.’  She rested her forehead against Faith’s and just let herself bask.  Her head was still spinning from the shock of having this suddenly drop into her life out of nowhere on an otherwise-boring Sunday afternoon, and she knew there were definitely going to be times she regretted it… but somehow it already felt like one of the rightest things she’d ever done.

“Uh… B?”

“Uh-huh?” she repeated, still mostly floating happily in a world of just the two of them.

“They just called my flight.”

 _That_ snapped Buffy back to reality faster than anyone should ever be snapped.  “Oh.  So… you’re leaving?”

“Guess that’s up to you.  I got the whole week off from work.  Had a six-night hotel reservation until I got pissed and cancelled it after leaving your place.  But there’s gotta be another available room somewhere in this town, right?  So… you want me to stay?  Are we actually doing this thing, or what?”

“The apartment next to mine is empty,” Buffy told her.  “Giles keeps it rented for when people come in from out of town on important business--you could stay there.  Or I have an empty guest bedroom.  Or…”  ‘I have a really big bed,’ she nearly offered, but held it back just in time.  Whoa, bad Buffy.  Bad, horny Buffy.  Way too fast there.  Still, the way Faith was grinning at her, it was obvious she knew where that sentence had been going.  Buffy felt her cheeks turn red.  “Um, yeah, so…”

“I’ll take the place next door to you,” Faith decided.  “Seems like the safest option, don’t you think?  I mean, ‘cause we’re going slow an’ all.”

“Right,” Buffy agreed, smiling back.  “Full of slowness.  That’s us.”

“C’mon, let’s go see if I can get my bag back before the plane takes off.  And get my money back on this ticket, too.”

They went in search of the nearest desk of the appropriate airline.  Faith didn’t object when Buffy took her hand, and didn’t let it go again until they were at the car, ready to go home.

\---

_two days later_

Faith wrapped an arm around each of her lover’s legs, pulling them up onto her shoulders and lifting her ass two feet off the mattress as she pushed her tongue as far into her as it would go, loving the helpless, exhausted mewling sounds coming out of B’s throat, and positive she could never get tired of the feel, sound, smell, taste of her, even if they did this every day for the next two hundred years.

Buffy’d come screaming when they’d first started, but that had been several hours and uncountable orgasms ago.  Since then they’d done the near-impossible and worn each other out, utterly and totally.  Her climax this time was just as intense, but the screams had turned to a series of dull grunts.  Faith held her legs even tighter, keeping her hips in place, helping her ride it all the way out.

When it was over, she crawled slowly up the bed and lay beside her, taking in her flushed face, damp hair, unfocused eyes, and just allowed herself a moment to appreciate this, how beautiful it all was.  When B was able to focus her gaze on her again, Faith leaned down and kissed her… then nearly came again herself when Buffy tilted her head back and licked the wetness from Faith’s chin.  Damn, how had she _ever_ once believed this girl must be the Queen of Vanillaville between the sheets?  Oh, right--‘cause she was trying to make herself feel better about not gettin’ any of that.

Sometimes you wanted something so badly you built it up to be this great thing in your mind that it could never possibly live up to… and sometimes it turned out to be even better than you’d dared dream.

“We’re still going slow, right?” she checked, as she ran a fingertip through the sweat on B’s stomach.

“Right.  Slow,” Buffy mumbled, smiling lazily through half-lidded eyes.  “That last thing was… slow.  I love slow.”

“Doesn’t suck,” Faith agreed… then her brain caught up to her mouth and she chuckled weakly.  “Well…” she started to amend.

“Mmm, sucking…”  Her eyes closed all the way, and she blindly fumbled around until she had a handful of Faith’s breast.  “Like sucking, too.”  By now she sounded barely conscious.

“I noticed.”  Faith kissed the tip of her nose.  “Go to sleep, B.”

“Mmkay…”

\---

one year later

_The old woman awoke to find someone squatting near her feet, petting T, scratching him in that spot behind his ear in that way he loved so much.  Her first coherent thought was a sense of nostalgia for the old days, when finding a stranger in her personal space would usually result in a quick fight, and finish with the trespasser flying backwards out the nearest window._

_It was funny how T was just sitting there, putting up with it.  Enjoying it, even.  He didn’t normally like strangers any better than she did.  But then the young woman looked up at her, and--_

_“Oh,” she croaked.  “Damn.  I forgot how hot I was.”_

_“Yeah, not bad, right?” she agreed, and gave T a couple of final pats on the head.  “I like your dog.”_

_“What are you doing here?”_

_“Well, no offense, lady,” the young woman said, and stood up to face her, “and hopefully no hard feelings, but I’m here to tell you to get lost.”_

_“What?”_

_“Sorry, but you’re a ‘what-if?’ that just ain’t happenin’ anymore,” she explained with a shrug, and glanced back over her shoulder.  The old woman followed her gaze and saw a beautiful blonde woman step out of the shadows, and she felt her breath catch in her throat.  She recognized her--how could she not?  She’d loved her, once, but had been too scared to ever--_

_The blonde came forward and wrapped her arms around the other woman from behind, and the brunette covered the blonde’s hands with her own, then smiled happily as she felt a chin rest on her shoulder, and a head lean into hers._

_“I’ve got good stuff in my life now,” the younger version of herself explained.  “Way more than I ever expected to have.  More than I deserve--”_

_“Faith--” the blonde warned gently, arms squeezing her just a little tighter._

_“I know, B, I know.  You say it, and I’m workin’ on believin’ it.  Just takes time, okay?  Anyways,” she went on, again talking to the woman sitting before her, “you’re part of the bad stuff, and I kinda need the extra head-space you’re takin’ up to start fittin’ the good stuff into, so if you don’t mind: hit the bricks.”_

_She made a little ‘shoo’ing gesture, and the old woman was gone._

_“Sorry, pal--you, too,” Faith said, and the dog disappeared, as well.  She turned around and wrapped her arms around Buffy, and when she saw the look she was getting, promised, “It’s cool, B--he’ll find a new owner somewhere.  A younger one, someone who can take him to the park every day so he can meet every hot bitch in town.”_

_Buffy laughed, pulled her close, and kissed her.  “You know, you_ are _going to look like that someday,” she said, nodding down toward the now-empty sofa._

_“Yeah, but I’ll have you around to get up and get the remote-control for me then, so who cares?”_

_“Well, you’re half-right.”_

_“Really?”  Faith’s forehead scrunched up in confusion.  “How you gonna get the remote for me if you ain’t around?”_

_Buffy pulled away and slapped her arm, but Faith grabbed her and pulled her back in again.  “I ain’t afraid of gettin’ old.  Not anymore.  Are you?”_

_“Not as long as we do it together,” Buffy replied._

_“Think we already promised to do that,” Faith pointed out, and raised B’s left hand to touch the ring on it, still scarcely able to believe that she’d been the one to put it there, matching the one on her own finger that B had given her.  “And we’re gonna have an assload of fun on the way.”_

_“Count on it,” Buffy agreed.  She took a step back and looked around at the apartment.  “But we’re gonna need a much bigger place than this when we get that old.”_

_“Oh, yeah?  How come?”_

_“Because I just have this feeling that we’re going to have a_ very _big family.”_

_“Love you, B.”_

_“I love you, too, Faith.”_

_The kiss lasted a long, long,_ long _time, since breathing wasn’t really an issue in dreams, but dream-kisses still weren’t as good as the real thing._

_“C’mon, let’s wake up,” Faith urged.  “I wanna fuck your brains out, then go kill something.  And then maybe we can stop for some KFC on the way home.”_

_“Oh, baby, you just say the sweetest things…”_

_As they drifted together back toward waking, laughing on the way, the tiny apartment vanished behind them, never to be seen again._

  
**_end_ **


End file.
